


No Regrets

by sorrowfulcheese



Series: Sex, Lies, and Misanthropy [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Quickies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:58:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrowfulcheese/pseuds/sorrowfulcheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard and Zaeed find something in common.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Regrets

    The krogan charged up the slope toward her and Shepard could not get a sight on him. When she lifted her head he was too close for the rifle and moving swiftly.  
  
     _Fucking battlemasters_ , she cursed silently as she reached for the Locust. All biotics and armour, faster than normal krogan, and tougher.  
  
    The Locust needed to be loaded and Shepard swore aloud as she slammed a clip of disruptive ammo into the chamber. She stepped out from behind her cover, raised the gun and squeezed the trigger without aiming properly. A few lost rounds were better than lost time, and she had no time. She took down the krogan's barriers just as he slammed into her, threw her back against the wall. The Locust flew out of her hands and spun out of reach.  
  
    Shepard rolled and regained her feet, launched herself at the krogan. She knew it would take him by surprise; they never expected a human to survive a slam like that. As it was, she could feel her suit dispensing medigel just about everywhere on her body.  
  
    The krogan had already turned away from her, to head back down after Zaeed and Grunt, so when she landed on his shoulders he hesitated a moment. It was all she needed; Thane had taught her the movement, though she'd not had a chance to try it. _Hang on tight, and let your own momentum spin the head around. And pray for luck, if you believe in that sort of thing, because the odds are never with you when you take on a krogan._ Shepard got a grip on his crest and flung herself to the krogan's left just as he was twisting to the right to dislodge her.  
  
    The sound of the krogan's neck snapping echoed in the chamber and Shepard yelped as she leaped free of the several hundred pounds of deadweight. Panting, she straightened and eyed the still form a moment, half-expecting him to rise up and attack again. She scanned the body swiftly with her omnitool, to reassure herself.  
  
    She looked up to see Zaeed climbing toward her, his rifle held loosely in front of him. He eyed the krogan's body, looked up at Shepard. "That was _pretty_ ," he said.  
  
    "Thanks," Shepard said, still panting. She straightened and turned to limp back to the rock formation she'd been using for cover, to retrieve the Locust. Behind her, she heard Zaeed's rifle collapse. She collapsed the Locust, hooked it to her armour over her shoulder, and she caught the scent of Zaeed just a moment before she turned to find he was standing next to her. He grinned, his teeth surprisingly even and white in his war-ravaged face, and Shepard swallowed. "What?" She hoped she sounded casual.  
  
    "When was your first time?" he asked her, quietly, and closed the space between them. Their chestplates tapped together and Zaeed pressed further.  
  
    Shepard braced her feet and pushed back, put a halt to his advancement. "First time for what?" she asked.  
  
     _sweat and gun oil and faint aftershave that was too much like her father's_  
  
    Zaeed grinned again. He did not force himself forward but he did not back away. "First time you realised you got off on killing someone."  
  
    "I don't," Shepard hedged.  
  
    "Oh, not on _all_ of them," Zaeed agreed. He reached down and gripped the sides of her gear, his thumbs on the quick-release latches of her greaves. "Most of them are vermin, no more satisfying than picking off rats with an airgun as a kid." He yanked her hips against his, and their plates made a creaking noise together. "I mean the big ones. The ones you know no one else could have taken down." His breath was warm on her face and smelled like ryncol and gunpowder.  
  
     _how does a man get gunpowder on his breath_  
  
    "Like that poor son of a bitch right there," he murmured, with a slight tilt of his head back toward the dead krogan. "Tell me you didn't feel something. Tell me you're not feeling it now." He used his foot to move her leg to one side, shifted slightly and kept her tight against him.  
  
    Shepard's ears tingled—  
  
     _everything tingles_  
      
    "Not a thing," she laughed.  
  
    "Too much armour," Zaeed said, and popped the quick-release on her greaves, let them fall to the stone floor. Startled, Shepard looked down at them, then up at Zaeed. "What?" he said, mock innocent.  
  
    "What nothing," Shepard said, and swiftly unsnapped Zaeed's own armour.  
  
    He chuckled and yanked off his gauntlets, tossed them down; he grasped Shepard's flexible armour base and lifted her off the ground, took several quick steps and set her down with her back to the cavern wall. Before she could move he had a hand inside her trousers and between her legs and Shepard leaned back against the cold stone. "'S'what I thought," he said thoughtfully, as his fingers traced the slick folds.  
  
   _too long it's been too long_  
  
    Zaeed's free hand moved down her backside, squeezed none too gently and pulled her hips forward. He pressed his face against her neck, slid his fingers into her. "You didn't tell me," he murmured, "about your first time. When was it?"  
  
    Shepard closed her eyes, tried to think, tried not to focus on his fingers, his breath, the heat of him. "Elysium," she said at last. "Some batarian—not even an officer."  
  
    He knew what he was doing, she had to admit; for someone who had spent his whole life killing things, he had very gentle hands. His thumb brushed over her clitoris and she inhaled. Zaeed grazed her neck with his teeth. "What made it good?" he wondered.  
  
    "He was—he had a girl, from the colony. Young girl, maybe twelve or thirteen. He was using her as a shield. Everyone else gave her up, stopped firing."  
  
    "But not you." His tongue trailed up the curve of her ear and Shepard's knees buckled slightly. Zaeed shifted his hold on her, kept her upright, used the base of his thumb to massage her with a slow and steady rhythm.  
  
    "No," she said, and lifted one leg just a little, hooked her ankle around his leg.  
  
    "Go on," he said, and thrust his fingers a little deeper, sped up his rhythm. Shepard exhaled with a soft groan.  
  
    "I shot him between the eyes," she said. "Right—right in the middle of all four of them. He just—just dropped." She tried to steady her breathing. "She didn't even get a drop of blood on her."  
  
    Zaeed bit her neck, just hard enough to hurt, licked that spot and lifted his head to look at her. "I can finish you off now," he said against her lips. "Or if you like, I can stop."  
  
    Shepard opened her eyes. "I will murder you if you stop right now," she growled.  
  
    Zaeed withdrew his fingers, held them up to her lips; Shepard took them into her mouth, savoured the taste of herself mixed with Zaeed's old-school gun oil, sweet and salty and acrid on her tongue at once. "Just giving you an out, sweetheart."  
  
    She slurped free of his hand and licked her lips, reached down to unbuckle his codpiece. "Or are you just afraid you won't be able to finish the job?"  
  
    "Only ever failed one," he told her, "and that was your fault."  
  
    "Got off on that one too," she said, as she freed his cock from his trousers. Zaeed pushed her trousers further down and let her guide him between her legs.  
  
    "Was it punching me in the face?" he grunted as he pushed into her.  
  
    Shepard let her head fall back again, reached around to grasp his hips with both hands, fingers digging into muscled flesh. "Oh yeah."  
  
    "All the way through that fucking refinery," he growled, and dropped his head to her neck again, "and you were getting off on hitting an old man."  
  
    "Old man can take it," she breathed.  
  
    "Old man can fucking give it, too," he said, and fell silent save his deep and ragged breaths.  
  
    Shepard came before he did, bit her lip and held her breath so she would make no noise as she clenched around him, as the hot-cold sensations sparked outward to every part of her body. Zaeed slammed her against the wall and suffocated a shout on her skin, ground hard against her hips and at last exhaled.  
  
    They were still a moment, catching their breath. "Grunt," Shepard said, and patted the back of Zaeed's close-cropped head.  
  
    "What?" He looked up at her, puzzled.  
  
    "Grunt's waiting for us," she said.  
  
    "And just like that you can think straight again." He grinned wickedly, withdrew from her, still half-hard. They pulled up their trousers and retrieved their discarded armour, fastened the greaves; Shepard patted her hips to ensure her armour was secure, and Zaeed straightened. They stood looking at one another for a moment.  
  
    "Thanks," Shepard said, then.  
  
    "Oh, anytime," Zaeed said with a laugh. "You know where to find me, if you ever get to reminiscing." He pulled on his gloves and sauntered down the slope to where Grunt was waiting, leaning casually against a wall.  
  
    Shepard trotted down after them. Grunt pushed away from the wall and walked beside her, as was his wont. "Sorry about that," Shepard said, without looking at him.  
  
    "You don't have to be sorry, Shepard," Grunt said with amusement. "I get it."  
  
    "Get what?"  
  
    "I'm a krogan," he shrugged. "I _get_ it."  
  
    "Grunt—"  
  
    He dropped his voice confidentially. "I do have a question, though. If you don't mind."  
  
    Shepard glanced around; Zaeed was following, keeping his eyes out for potential ambush, and apparently not listening. Shepard looked up at Grunt. "What's your question?"  
  
    "How do you—do it like that? Facing each other. Is that normal for humans?"  
  
    Shepard backhanded his powerful biceps. "You were watching?"  
  
    "You weren't exactly hiding, Shepard."  
  
    "Fuck," she sighed. "Yes, it's—one normal position for humans, yes. There's no single 'normal' position."  
  
    "Huh." Grunt looked thoughtful. "You ever gonna take the clan up on that breeding request?"  
  
    " _Grunt!_ "  
  
    "I'm just askin'," he said. "I mean, it is kind of an honour."  
  
    "I like to survive my sex, thanks," Shepard said, a hand to her forehead. "Can we talk about something else, now?"  
  
    "Sure. If you don't mind, I'm gonna tell people how you took that krogan down all by your teeny lonesome. Just so you know, you might get another breeding request."  
  
    "Grunt!"  
  
    "Heh."


End file.
